


Storm Warning

by theladybeatrice



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladybeatrice/pseuds/theladybeatrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D'artagnan has trouble sleeping through a thunderstorm and needs comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm Warning

Thunder cracked over their heads as if the earth were an egg being split over a bowl. Only a heartbeat later, lightening burned the darkness, and D'artagnan's heart was pounding fast. Porthos felt him jerk awake, D'artagnan's whole body tense and his breath panting through his nose. Although Porthos himself was usually slow to wake, he had been prepared for this, waiting unconsciously for the moment D'artagnan needed him. 

Lying on his side, one hand cradling his own pillow, Porthos reached out with the other to wrap around D'artagnan's waist and pull him close, so that his whole back rested against Porthos' chest. He was trying to give the lad an anchor, a sense of being safely secured to this world. Without really waking up, Porthos snuffled his forehead against D'artagnan's neck and whispered "you're all right; I've got you." D'artagnan nodded slowly, his hair moving against Porthos' forehead. 

They had never really discussed this, any of them. But they had noticed it. D'artagnan, usually full of fire and more courage than sense, was terrified of thunder in the night. In the day, he had a soldier's acceptance of the rain, and complained no more than anyone because of it. Half their duties seemed destined to be carried out in the rain. Even in darkness, the rain, when one wasn't camping in it, had a way of being soothing to sleep. But once the thunder began, D'artagnan seemed fearful of losing everything and everyone to the distant powers of the sky. He would sit up through the storm, tense, watchful, eyes wide and breath heaving. At first, there was some teasing from the group, but it soon became apparent that this was no laughing matter. While D'artagnan's fear may have been distracting to the others, they realized he was using up so much adrenaline that he was exhausted by daybreak and therefore, a danger to himself and others. So they did their best to bring comfort to their friend.

When Athos had noticed the distant rumbling this afternoon, he knew they would need to find shelter in an inn. Camping was not option this night. Camping in the rain was never a pleasure, but with thunder and D'Artagnan, there was just no point. He had thought at first that the noise sounded to D'Artagnan like gunfire, but the lad certainly had no fear there. In just a few months, he had become battle-hardened. Now, Athos supposed that the thunder, in combination with the rain, probably reminded D'Artagnan of the awful night his father died. He had lost nearly everything that night, and likely developed a primal fear of doing so again. 

When the thunder cracked, Athos opened his eyelids to try to see D'Artagnan in the darkness. He felt the mattress move as Porthos pulled him close, and felt the rush of air as D'Artagnan took in panicked breaths. Athos reached out with one hand to cup D'Artagnan's face, and began to stroke the hair from his forehead. In soothing tones, he whispered "shhhhh, it's all right; you're safe; we're all safe." In a lightening flash, Athos could see D'Artagnan close his eyes, determined to regain normalcy. 

They had been lucky to find this inn with just one large room left. The bed was meant to accomodate a family, and the four of them fit into it, barely. If any one of them rolled onto his back in the night, Aramis, clinging to the front edge, would surely be bounced out. As it was, he was essentially plastered to Athos' back, hoping that if he did hit the floor, it would be posterier first. So it was Athos' movement that awakened Aramis. He raised his head slightly, trying to look past Athos. He could the whispers of his friends and sensed that D'Artagnan was starting to settle down, but wasn't quite in control yet. Ever so softly, Aramis crooned lines from a song in Spanish, one that D'Artagnan would recognize. He had discovered it accidently one day, humming while he worked, a habit that often annoyed his fellow musketeers. But D'Artagnan's face had lit up at the melody. His mother had often sung the tune while she worked, as did Aramis' own mother. D'Artagnan did not understand the words, but the melody made him happy. At any other time, if Aramis had essentially sung a lullaby to his brothers-in-arms, he would never hear the end of it. But as it was, he heard only a sigh from D'Artagnan and his labored breathing settled into a more regular pattern. 

Athos leaned forward, and gently placed his lips on D'Artagnan's forehead. He could just barely see a half-smile on the lad's face. They all settled back into a solid night's sleep, and would not speak of this in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me, you guessed it, in a thunderstorm. This is my first shot at a fic. Please be kind.
> 
> Podfic inspired by this work:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/2869394


End file.
